


Fool

by Jatzsmik



Series: InkToberWrites Fics [1]
Category: Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Emotional Numbness, InkToberWrites, Not sure what else to tag??? lol, Self-Reflection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2019-01-16 21:03:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12350601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jatzsmik/pseuds/Jatzsmik
Summary: Written for a writing challenge version of 'InkTober' - Prompt one, Fool - maybe I'll post the others if I like them enough.





	Fool

Standing where he was, an age-old limp coming back into his leg, the young man had never felt like more of a fool.

The snow spiraled down, uncaring that with its beauty it was bringing frigid temperatures right to freeze a man solid. It was certainly a cold winter this year and he wanted nothing to do with it. Especially not alone.

At one point, seeing the white covering the land would have been a cause for joy, for celebration, for running un the stairs and screaming at the top of his lungs for his friend to get his lazy butt – ass had not yet felt ‘right’ on his tongue – out of his bed and go outside with him. Sure, snow hadn’t been a novelty before, but, it had always been something worth celebrating. Or at least a mustering a broad grin to his face.

Now, he couldn’t crack a smile at all without the risk of water freezing on his cheeks.

It was mildly embarrassing, actually.

You know, crying. Except it wasn’t in the rain, exactly, but the snow with nothing more than a flimsy vest over long sleeved cotton and jeans to protect against winter’s bite. So, he at least it wasn’t like he was from a bad romance movie chock full of clichés. Thank god for that.

The shivers wracked his body, and somewhere, in that mind buried deep by grief and self-loathing, he knew that he was slowly freezing. The problem was, he found himself not motivated to walk the ten or so paces back to the door of the mansion. Snow was covering his boots – he could feel his socks slowly getting wetter as it melted – and he was positive that his hair was duller with the white than its usual shade of auburn.

He just felt foolish.

How was he supposed to know that he never meant to come back?

Matt resisted the urge to chuckle to himself. He probably would have cracked something, maybe a blood vessel if he did. Was this what the old saying meant? To not put all your eggs in one basket?

Because if that one basket fell, or broke, then you were fresh outta luck. No breakfast or money for you, joe. Dimly, he registered that his knees had buckled and that the cold was eating through his jeans and he might get frostbite on his ass, but he couldn’t bring himself to do anything about it but relax. His arms didn’t feel all that cold anymore, so what was the real problem? It wasn’t as if he was going to die.

Felt like it though, sometimes, didn’t it?

Not that Matt allowed his mind to go there for more than a fleeting second. Not that it even wanted to.

Slowly, stiff fingers tapped, tapped, tapped against the crystals on the ground. They were numb, but the motion brought the comfort of a long habit to the young man. He just wanted to move, but wanted to fall into the ground and rest at the same time. Wasn’t that a contradiction? Probably.

Not that it really mattered.

He would close his eyes either way. Maybe then…

…he’d stop hurting for a second.

…just a second…

…just one

He didn’t remember passing out, but waking up was a different story.

How could he not when bitter, bitter cold, so cold he felt little prickles of heat at his fingertips or the distinct numbness on his back gnawed at everywhere. Or the heat radiating from his shoulder and under his knees.

The foolish feeling intensified even further when the nurse told him that he’d have frozen in the blizzard if someone hadn’t noticed him standing out there before he collapsed.

That the person who had noticed was as white as the snow outside wasn’t exactly good either. With his prickling fingers, shaking uncontrollably, he opened the folded piece of paper sitting on the pillow by his head.

It felt great to crumple the note and throw it as hard as he could against the wall. He didn’t realize he was crying until the choking sounds registered as sobs.


End file.
